


You're My Something (To Hold Onto)

by hannahetesta



Category: Off the Page - Jodi Picoult and Samantha van Leer
Genre: F/M, Musicalverse, stageverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahetesta/pseuds/hannahetesta
Summary: Based on the musical (that I haven't seen yet) based on the books (that I've read four times each). While she's still in the book, Delilah and Oliver have a sweet moment together before she has to go back to the real world. Based on the song "Something to Hold Onto" from the musical.





	You're My Something (To Hold Onto)

**Author's Note:**

> So I sort of asked Jodi Picoult herself if I could write a fanfiction about this...and she kind of said yes. So here we are.
> 
> I love Between the Lines and Off the Page. It's a story about finding love through reading, about fiction and reality blending together, about how important friendship and family are. It's the first thing my boyfriend and I bonded over, and we've read these books multiple times. When we learned about the stage adaptation, we immediately did all the research we could and we're still tracking its progress and can't wait to see it go to Broadway (fingers crossed!).
> 
> In one of the production photos, I noticed Delilah is wearing a chain around her neck that holds a ring. Considering this is in Act II, and it's after she travels inside the book and then gets out, I'm assuming that Oliver gave it to her and that it's an engagement/wedding ring. I don't think anyone part of the production can confirm or deny this theory, so I'm going to write how I imagine she obtained it. 
> 
> Jodi Picoult and Samantha Van Leer own the original books. I'm not sure who gets to own the rights to the stage show, so for now I'll just say it belongs to Jeff Calhoun (director). Hopefully I do this story the justice it deserves.

If someone would have told me that I'd be sitting here in a big, poofy blue dress, in the middle of a one-of-a-kind fairy tale, being proposed to by the man of my dreams, who happens to be a fictional prince from said fairy tale, I would have said they were crazy. But I suppose, with the day I've had, that anything is possible.

I stare at Oliver, my mouth hanging open, my eyes flickering down to the ring he's holding. "I...Oliver, we're so  _young_ ," I say, my voice an octave higher than usual. "I mean, we haven't even gone on a date yet and -"

"Date?" He lowers his hand holding the ring, his brow furrowing. "Like the twenty-eighth of June?"

I giggle. "No, it's like...you'd call it 'courting'. You know, getting to know the other person and spending time with them."

"Well, why didn't you say so in the first place? I'd love to court you, Delilah." He glances down at the picnic he had made up for us. "I suppose this counts as our first official 'date' then, correct?"

I shrug. "I mean, I don't know..." I duck my head, feeling my cheeks warm. "I kind of count the times we've stayed up late and just talked. I know they're not formal or anything, but they're...they're the best part of my day." 

Oliver's free hand reaches out to mine, his thumb stroking the backs of my fingers. When I meet his gaze, he has the most gentle smile on his face. "I was thinking the exact same thing."

I squeeze his hand. "Thank you, for all of this. But I think marriage can wait a bit. Dating...courting...whatever you want to call it: that comes first."

"Well, not quite."

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"Getting you out of here is first. Then getting me out. _Then_ dating-courting-whatever-you-want-to-call-it." 

I roll my eyes. "Always thinking ahead, aren't you?"

He grins at me, his mouth tipping up on one side; I feel my heart flutter. "Of course. That's why you love me."

I freeze at the word "love". I haven't exactly said it out loud to him, but I'd like to. I've only dated one boy before him, and that was in the sixth grade, when dating consisted of hanging out at the mall and one failed attempt to kiss me. (It was more like he tried to eat my face, but that's another story entirely.) I always wondered if I'd even know when I would fall in love. As much as I love Disney movies and fairy tales, those relationships happen so fast. Could that happen to me? Could I really fall in love so quickly with someone?

Oliver and I only started talking a few weeks ago, but somehow it's like I've always known him. I've talked to him about completely arbitrary things, like how I'm loving  _The Lunar Chronicles_ and how I wish my hair would stay curled for longer than two minutes. But I've also told him things I've never even told my best friend Jules, things like how sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I just stopped existing. That conversation wasn't the easiest, but it felt good to tell him what was on my mind. He didn't think I was a freak, or insane; he understood, probably better than anyone else I know. 

I'm positive that I love him, like he loves me. If only I could tell him without worrying I'll mess it up somehow.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts - literally - as Oliver takes my hands and pulls me to my feet. "So before we focus on getting you home, I do have one more surprise for you." 

"Another one? You've already fed me half the kitchen of the castle, how can you possibly have another surprise for me?"

"You'll see." He leads me out of Timble Tower, to where Socks is standing dutifully nearby. I try to hoist myself onto the saddle, but only succeed in falling on my back, my skirts fanning out around me. A cloud of dust puffs into the air, making Socks sneeze. 

"Ugh, I got snot on my hooves," he complains. "And I just polished them this morning..."

Oliver doesn't respond. He kneels down and peels my skirts back from my face. "Are you okay?"

"Never better," I grit out, my back screaming in pain.

He helps to get me back on my feet, leading me back to Socks. "Put your foot in the stirrup," he says. "And then place your hands here...and here." My skin tingles from where he's touching me as he guides my hands to Socks's back. "Okay, now push off with your right foot."

"I'm not going to fall, am I?"

I feel the pressure of his hands at my back. "I won't let you fall. I promise." His breath tickles the back of my neck. I count to three, breathe in, and do as I'm told. 

I expect my stomach to bottom out, and it does, but a few seconds later I register that I'm now sitting on the saddle. A smile breaks out on my face. "We did it!" 

" _You_ did it," Oliver corrects. "I was here for moral support." 

"But you told me how to do it."

"But you're a fast learner." He puts his own foot in the stirrup and mounts, sitting behind me and taking the reins. "Have I mentioned that I find that incredibly charming?"

My face becomes warm again. "Says the literal Prince Charming of this story."

He kisses my burning cheek. "I'll miss you." Before I can say it back, he gently nudges Socks with his feet, and we're off towards the castle.

* * *

 

"You're not peeking, are you?"

"Oliver, you have a blindfold over my eyes." I grimace as I hip-check another table. As much as I love spending time with him, Oliver is not a good guide. "How can I peek?"

"I just want to make sure." He's stopped moving, and I collide into him before I can stop myself.

"Sorry."

He pulls me close; I feel his lips brush my forehead. "Don't be."

We walk for a few more minutes, and Oliver successfully steers me clear of any obstacles. I hear a door open as he continues to lead me along, and suddenly I notice that it's a lot darker. While I can't see anything concrete, I could still notice light from the castle windows when we were out in the corridor. 

"Oliver, where are we?"

He removes the blindfold, and as my eyes adjust, I notice his face is framed by soft candlelight. We're in a room with high painted ceilings, a large chandelier filled with candles hanging above. All around us are elaborate candleholders, some as tall as I am. A quartet of musicians sits in the corner, pretending to be engrossed in tuning their instruments.

"What...what is all this?" I ask, breathless.

"I seem to recall that you promised to dance with me one day," Oliver says.

My eyes widen. "Oliver, when I said that, I didn't mean in the near future." Or any future, really. 

His eyes get misty for a moment. "Please? Just once? For me?" He takes my hand, bringing my knuckles to his lips. "I'll be right here with you. It'll be alright."

Truth be told, I'd love to dance with him, but I have zero coordination when it comes to dancing. We had a whole unit on classic dances in phys ed when I was in second grade; I barely managed to pass because I kept forgetting the steps or bumping into my classmates. I'd rather not embarrass myself again, but the way Oliver's looking at me, I feel myself caving.

"Okay. Just one dance. And then that's it."

Oliver scoops me into his arms and spins us around before setting me on the floor. He nods at the quartet, who take up their instruments and begin playing some kind of waltz...at least that's what I think it is. Oliver bows and offers his hand.

"Delilah Eve McPhee," he says, his voice soft, "may I have the honor of sharing this dance with you?"

"You may," I answer, taking his hand. He pulls me against him, his other hand on the small of my back while I place my free hand on his shoulder. He gives me an easy smile as he starts to step; I keep my eyes on our feet, clumsily trying to mimic his graceful steps. I don't do too bad at first, but then I step on the toe of one of his boots. He doesn't say "ouch", but he does something much worse.

He laughs.

I break away, gathering my skirts and preparing to run. "I told you I don't dance," I choke out.

"I'm sorry." He catches my arm, turning me around to face him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh." He takes my hands again. "I'll show you how to do it, okay?" 

For the next few minutes, Oliver helps me with the footing, and eventually I'm able to manage dancing close to him without stepping on his toes...too much, at least. After a while, I even manage to look consistently up at his face instead of our feet; I study his dark blue eyes, and find myself wanting to run my hand through his hair.

That's when he starts to sing quietly to me, so only I can hear. It doesn't matter that he's turning me in some intricate kind of spin, or that I'm the most graceless kind of person to dip, or that I'm gaping at him like a fish. My heart is impossibly light as he keeps his eyes locked on mine, his voice and arms drawing me closer. 

Sooner than I'd like, the music stops, and our arms drop. Oliver takes my hands again, bringing both to his chest. "Thank you for sharing this with me," he says.

My mind is scrambling for something to say to him. It's fuzzy, though, as if my head is full of cotton candy, and I can't form a coherent thought no matter how hard I try. My mouth starts to move, and I pray that whatever it is that comes out is coherent.

"You know my mom's making me go to the school psychologist, right?"

He nods. "Well, yes, I do...I'm not sure what that has to do with -"

"He told me," I continue, "...he told me that, on days when I'm feeling really sad, or can't get out of bed, or...or I think everyone's better off without me..." I look up at him, my eyes filling with tears. "I'm supposed to think of what makes me happy. He told me to find something that's worth living for and keep that in mind when things get hard." I feel a tear escape as I bring one of my hands up to Oliver's cheek. "Oliver... _you're_ my something."

Oliver gives me a sad smile, his thumb gently brushing away my tears. "And you're my everything."

My heart starts to beat faster as he leans forward, and finally - finally! - he presses his lips to mine. 

My mind is blissfully empty as he kisses me. He's gentle, his hands coming up to hold the sides of my face. I wind my fingers into his hair, and he groans against my mouth.

I pull away, giggling. "You like that?"

It's his turn to blush. "Yes...maybe a little too much."

We both laugh, and then his face turns serious. He reaches into his tunic and pulls out the ring. 

"Oliver, I thought..."

"I'm not proposing. Not yet, at least." He takes my left hand and slides the ring onto my finger. "But I want you to have this. Even when you're back home, I want you to remember that I'm always here. I know I can't physically be there for you when you need it, and it kills me. I want you to have this, as a reminder that you can always come to me, no matter what." He leans in again. "I'm happy to be your something," he says, right before he kisses me again.

I grasp the front of his tunic. "I love you, Oliver," I whisper.

I can feel him smile as I kiss him back. "And I love you, Delilah McPhee."

* * *

"Delilah? Are you almost ready?"

I jump a foot out of my desk chair. "Yeah, Mom! I'll be down in a second!" I grab _Between the Lines_ and stuff it into my backpack, promising myself that I'll talk to Oliver when I get a free moment at school. I head down the stairs and grab an orange from the fruit bowl, digging my thumbnail into the peel. 

"Where'd you get that ring?"

My whole body tenses. "What?"

"Your necklace," she says. "I've never seen you wear it before."

I glance down. Once I was back in my world, I had decided that wearing the ring on my finger was way too risky. Putting it on a chain was less suspicious, and this way I could keep it with me at all times.

"Oh, this?" I shrug. "Found it at the bottom of my jewelry box. I have no idea where it came from, but it's too big for my fingers, so I thought I'd just wear it like this."

My mom comes closer, picking up the ring and studying it. "It's very beautiful...I never see you wear anything besides earrings."

"I thought I'd change things up a bit. You know, try something new for once."

She takes a step back, eyes narrowed. "You're sure you're feeling okay, Delilah?"

I nod. "Never better." And, I'm surprised to find, I'm actually telling her the truth for once.

She looks at me for a moment longer before grabbing her keys. "Finish your orange. I'll meet you out in the car, okay?"

As soon as the door's closed, I stand for a moment, my breakfast forgotten. I lift the ring and study it, watching the way it catches the early morning light filtering in the window. Someday, I'll wear this ring on my finger, and I'll proudly tell everyone where it came from. I'll wake up every morning and brush Oliver's hair off of his forehead, the metal cool against his skin. 

But for now, I'm content with this: a tangible reminder that he's real, and he's mine. 

I give the ring a kiss and look over at my backpack. "I'll be back soon, Ollie," I whisper. "Promise."

 


End file.
